


Sun-kissed Nightmares & Lost Promises

by LossOfWords



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abusive Father, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anton McClain, Artist Keith (Voltron), Awkward Keith (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Character Death, Childish Lance, Dad Shiro, Daddy Issues, Depressed Lance :(, Depression, Feels, Grief, Heathers has emotional value to Lance, Homophobia, Insomnia, Insomniac, Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Keith doesn't know how to human, Lance and Keith never wear their own fucking clothes and I live for it, Lance has daddy issues whoops, Langst, Lauren McClain, M/M, Mama McClain, Manipulative Father, Mental Illness, Mental Instability, Modern AU, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Orphan Keith (Voltron), Papa McClain, Shiro is a dad but like what else is new, Singer AU, Singer Lance, Sophia McClain, Stress, Summer AU, Tea, Twin Lance, aka Mama McClain, homophobic father, lance is suffering, no seriously lance is fucking attached to tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-04-01 09:25:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13995294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LossOfWords/pseuds/LossOfWords
Summary: A part of him felt missing. No, it was missing. He could stir his shallow tea for days on end, and never feel like he did before.-AU where Lance is sad with family issues, and he has two boyfriends that live with him.





	1. Saturated

**Author's Note:**

> Agghhhhhhh I'm really excited for this to progress! I've had the idea for this fanfiction stuck in my head for AGES but I hadn't done anything with it yet, and now here we are! I hope you enjoy this <3

 

_“Tea. Black, peach tea. A dessert spoon, not a soup spoon, and never a tea spoon. Drink it when your days are… darker, and use raw sugar. Always put the water in the kettle, and take your time pouring it. Stir it for as long as you like, it’s a nice distraction. Distractions. You always need distractions, don’t you? Drink your tea, don’t cool it. Let it burn your tongue, it’ll give you a sensation that reminds you of your existence. Don’t start crying again, like the last time, or you’ll get in trouble. It’s not your fault, it wasn’t your fault, just… try not to do it again. Okay?”_

 

 

—-

 

 

It was summer, a hot, boiling summer. The streets had visible layers of heat, and within every household the AC units were cranked to the maximum, raising the bills drastically. Which is why, inside of the two bedroom apartment that was occupied by three men, two of them were unable to comprehend why the other insisted upon drinking tea. Lance McClain, a Cuban 19 year old student had some of the most peculiar habits to them. His tea was the main one.

 

“Lance, for fucks sake, it’s like 97 degrees outside, can’t you just make it with cold water?” grumbled Keith, a 23 year old student in his last year of college. He dressed like an emo tween, with black hair and dark clothes, highlighted by red. On certain occasions he even wore eyeliner.

 

Lance simply shook his head, stirring his tea beyond necessity.

 

“Leave him be, if he wants to have a heatstroke than let him,” commented Shiro, the oldest of the three, going on 27. He worked in some office downtown, and was the main provider for the three of them. 

 

“Actually, no- Lance please don’t have a heatstroke, come over here by the vent.” Lance chuckled softly and walked lazily towards the living room, which was joint with the kitchen. Setting his tea down onto a nearby coffee table, he sat next to Shiro on a love-seat couch.

 

Lance sipped his tea, listening distantly as the two men idly chatted about unimportant matters that he couldn’t bother to listen to. So he shifted his focus to the AC, and how the air blew on him. It was icy, and numbing if you were close enough to it. A nice contrast to the burn of his tea, but he wanted that burn.

 

He began to wonder about what it would be like to live in an icy terrain, always freezing, and always numbing. He wondered if he would better appreciate his tea when living in this winter wonderland. Everything seemed to come back around to his tea, the reasoning making sense in his head, however jumbled and confusing when trying to explain to others why he was so attached to such a peculiar item, a bag filled with herbs and sickly sweet flowers. His eyes lidded slowly as he drifted into a state of deep thought.

 

“Lance?” 

 

He jolted with surprise as he heard his name being said by Shiro, who was looking at him expectantly.

 

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening. Did you say something?” Lance said hurriedly, flustered by his lack of focus. Shiro smiled, amused.

 

“I was asking if you were alright, I mentioned us maybe going downtown twice and you didn’t respond.” Lance blinked. It took him a disappointingly long period of time to realize that he loved going to walk downtown. He often proposed to do so on weekends, claiming that downtown was the “place to be.” 

 

Unable to think of a proper response, Lance simply said “Oh,” and took a sip of his tea. His mind felt jumbled; holding a conversation seemed like too much work at the moment. Going downtown sounded nice… well no it didn’t, he’d have to walk around, and it was getting dark soon. What ifLance spoiled the mood, he wasn’t particularly chatty at the moment, but then again was he ever? Well he was, he couldn’t really differentiate his moods unless he was currently in one of them.

 

Keith restated one of his concerns, “I mean, it’s starting to get dark outside. I don’t know about you but I’m not in the best of moods for getting mugged.” Shiro _tched,_ and began thinking.

 

“We could go to the theatre?” He proposed, clearly wanting to go somewhere.

 

“Lets just watch a film here,” Lance murmured around his cup, with tea inside that was beginning to grow cold. Keith shrugged. “Why not? I don’t really feel like paying $20 for some overly salted popcorn anyways.” He stood up and walked over to the entertainment center without waiting for Shiro’s input, where he opened a cabinet full of movies.

 

“What do you wanna see?” He asked.

 

“How do you know I want to see anything?” Shiro retorted jokingly. 

 

“Well you offered to go to the theatre less than 5 minutes ago.” Lance smiled gently, enjoying listening to his boyfriends banter. 

 

“Yea, I wanted to get out of the house, I mean it’s a perfectly good Friday evening.” Shiro countered. Keith just rolled his eyes and turned back towards the cabinet. 

 

“Someone pick a movie or we’re watching Shrek.” Shiro gasped with mock horror. 

 

“ _Ten Things I Hate about You_ ” Lance offered. Keith snorted.

 

“Are you kidding? We’ve watched that every single time you suggest a movie,” he said teasingly. Lance fiddled with the spoon in his cup once again.

 

“I like the love story,” he hummed. He felt Shiro shift next to him to rest his legs on the coffee table.

 

“Don’t act surprised, Lance would kill for a good romantic story,” he said lazily. Keith didn’t respond, and instead grudgingly grabbed _Ten Things I Hate about You_ and popped the disc into the DVD player. Grabbing the remote, Keith walked back to a one-person chair and settled into an awkward position with his legs draped over the sides.

 

Lance laid his head onto Shiro’s shoulder, setting his now empty tea cup onto the table and shifting his position to be more comfortable. As the movie rolled on, he stared distantly at the screen, not particularly focusing on anything. Colors blurred in his vision as different scenes unfolded, all equally indistinguishable to him, despite having watched this movie countless times before. He could hear people talking, and background songs, however he didn’t feel like actually listening. He had watched this movie enough times to not feel like he was missing anything, and he enjoyed the period of time this would grant him to just relax without the pressure of focusing on his environment.

 

At some point he dozed off, and was awoken by a gentle tap from Shiro.

 

“Mm?” Lance lifted his head off of Shiro’s shoulder, half-asleep still. 

 

“Come on babe, you fell asleep like halfway through, you should go to bed.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he murmured, drowsily pulling himself into a sitting position. Keith was at the entertainment center, putting the disc back into it’s case. Shiro stood up from where he was sitting beside him, and offered his hand to pull Lance up as well. Lance took his hand, and was soon on his feet next to Shiro. With tired legs, he allowed Shiro to lead him to their bedroom, with Keith following in their footsteps. 

 

The rest was somewhat of a blur for Lance. His depressed, sleep-ridden mind didn’t register his footsteps, or when Shiro told him to change clothes. He could barely recall changing into one of Keith’s shirts and boxers, and laying down onto bed in-between the other two men. After being in bed for maybe 4 minutes Lance was asleep, which was a surprise to no one.

 

 

—

 

 

_A field of flowers stretched out before his hands. Were they his hands? Probably. Hopefully. The colors were vibrant, with a bright blue sky, and an array of different colored flowers. Sunlight kissed his skin– yes he could definitely tell that it was in fact his skin, the shade being a smooth caramel. He only then noticed that he was staring at the ground, what if there was more around him? His head jolted upwards, revealing that the field seemed endless, and how had he not noticed a steady breeze before, the oblivious idiot. Someone was standing in the distance, a girl, a familiar girl, and she was turning around. Her face was familiar, why couldn’t he think of her name? He knew this girl, she obviously knew him because she was saying something, his name-_

 

_“LANCE!”_

 

 

—

 

 

A cold sweat. Lance woke up in a cold sweat, sitting up quickly. Shiro was gone, usually leaving for work around 3 a.m. With a shaky hand Lance wiped some sweat off of his face, before glancing over at a sleeping Keith. It was still dark outside, probably around 5 a.m. With a massive effort, Lance managed to steady his breathing. As gently as he could, he flipped the covers off of him, and quietly shuffled across the wooden floors to the bathroom, grabbing his phone to take it with him.

 

When he softly closed the door and turned on the light, looking in the mirror made him want to throw up. He looked ghastly, as he did most nights after waking from an awful dream. His face was pale and still sleek from sweating, with a tint of red. He was shaking, he could could feel it, and his legs felt weak. His chest ached, he realized, was he anxious? He couldn’t really tell what he was feeling, all he knew was that he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. After taking a glance at his phone he realized that it was 4:43 a.m., which was close enough to his guess of 5.Taking a moment to use the bathroom, Lance then shuffled out of the bathroom, trying his best to maneuver in the darkness of their bedroom.

 

Once he managed to get to the kitchen without tripping and dying, he turned on some of the more dim lights, not wanting Keith to wake up. He debated what to do. He could make a cup of tea, like always, but that would risk waking Keith by clashing dishes about and he didn’t want to hear him bitch about it. 

 

So instead, Lance sat in the one-seated arm chair and scrolled idly through his phone. It wasn’t the most entertaining way to occupy his time, considering that there was only so much he could do. He could watch YouTube, but his headphones were back in their bedroom, and playing it out loud was risky. Looking at his feed on social medias was ok, but it was a bunch of people that were generally better than him lowering his self esteem, which wasn’t helpful considering that he was already depressed at the moment. 

 

After about half an hour, he debated waking up Keith so that they could have sex or something like that, but he probably wouldn’t be a very good sport. It was about 5:20, he could go out for a run or walk, and maybe get back near 6. But he wasn’t dressed for it, still wearing his boxers and Keith’s shirt. He could text Hunk or Pidge, probably Pidge, since she always woke up earlier. After a moment of thinking, he dismissed the option from his mind. Pidge was fun and all, but he wasn’t in the mood for her teasing insults. Hunk was most likely still asleep, and while he wouldn’t mind being woken by Lance, he probably still wouldn’t be awake enough to hold a proper conversation anyways.

 

And so he sat, for another three hours, staring at walls, playing with filters on SC, dozing off before waking up slightly startled, until Keith finally groggily stumbled out of their bedroom, still appearing to be half awake.

 

“Keith, my buddy, morning!” Lance called, relieved that Keith finally decided to wake up at about 8 am. In response, he made a noise that sounded dangerously close to a “Fuck off.” Lance took that as a sign that he wasn’t in the mood for interaction just yet, so he continued to scroll idly through his phone. Behind him he heard Keith clashing dishes about, probably making grits as he usually did. Within about 5 minutes, Lance heard Keith’s voice sounding from the kitchen.

 

“Do you want any grits?” he mumbled. Lance turned around in his chair to look at Keith, who was gazing at him as well. His hair was messy, a bedhead if you would call it, and he was wearing one of Shiro’s sweatshirts, which was much too large for him. Lance, of course, found this adorable, but was unable to find the effort to smile or laugh, so he instead did his best to lace his voice with his typical bubbly cockiness. 

 

“Aw of course I do, thanks for offering Keithy,” he singsonged, draping his leg over the chair’s arm. He heard Keith snort from the kitchen, and felt his lips twitch ever so slightly. 

 

After a few minutes, Keith walked into the living room with two bowls of grits, placing one into Lance’s lap, and sitting on the loveseat with the other. Lance shifted to sit up properly, and took a bite of his grits. For a while, silence floated between the two of them, as it did frequently. It wasn’t usually a bad type of silence, more so a natural one, where they had the space to simply enjoy each other’s presence. Shiro typically initiated conversations between the three of them, and kept Lance and Keith from bickering over something minor and stupid. The two of them tended to quarrel a lot, and while Lance wasn’t sure if the other was aware, the fighting did a lot to his mental stability. Half the time it wasn’t anything serious, just complaining about the misplacement of an item, or debating over a silly topic, but it always upset Lance to hear Keith so fed up with him. Nevertheless, he always participated in the squabbles, as though he couldn’t resist it.

 

“Hey Lance?” After almost twenty minutes, Keith broke the silence with a curious stare towards the other.

 

“Hm?” Lance hummed questioningly, turning his gaze towards Keith. 

 

“You never talk about your family, even though you said you had a pretty big one right? Is there like a reason, or..?” Keith said, in his casual voice, unaware of the lack of sensitivity in his statement. Lance didn't know what his expression portrayed after those words were said, however he couldn’t imagine that it was anything good. Shifting in his seat, Lance looked away from Keith.

 

“Not much to talk about,” was all he said, making it as clear as he could that it wasn’t a topic up for discussion. He felt Keith’s gaze on him, his stupidly curious gaze. The man never knew how to control his curiosity, having little to no understanding of what was socially acceptable to say, and what to keep to himself. It was cute, at times, but most of the time incredibly troublesome. 

 

“Is something wrong?” Keith asked. 

 

“Not at all, what makes you figure?” Lance shot back, growing tired of the conversation. He didn’t want to think about his family, let alone talk about it.

 

“You’ve talked about your mother before,” he said in a matter-of-factly tone. Lance frowned.

 

“And?” 

 

“Will we ever get to meet her?”

 

“Will we ever get to meet _your_ family?” Lance realized too late that his response was invalid.

 

“Dead.” Keith said dryly.

 

“I’m sorry, that was insensitive.”

 

“It’s fine, really.” 

 

Silence crept between the two of them, but it was no longer the comfortable kind. It was tense and awkward. Minutes passed as the two of them shuffled, trying to figure out what to say next.

 

“Maybe one day,” Lance mumbled. Keith’s head jerked upwards, as though he wasn’t sure if he had heard him correctly.

 

“Really?” Lance nodded awkwardly. It had been a while since he last spoke to his mother, and he was somewhat afraid of the sorts of things she would say, but he knew they’d have to meet her eventually. It’s not like he could delay the process by trying to meet Shiro’s family first, since they were all the way in Japan. 

 

Keith hummed as a response, looking thoughtful. Lance’s heart thudded as he continued to think of a potential meet-up; he didn’t know what could be expected from one. 

 

Once again, silence reigned. This time it was less awkward, but by no means comfortable. At some point Keith mumbled an announcement of going to take a shower, and shuffled into their bathroom, shutting the door. And so, Lance was once again left alone with his thoughts. 

 

As usual. 

 

His thoughts hindered him, despite the fact that it wasn’t that obvious. He wasn’t fully open with his boyfriends, but he genuinely wanted to be. It just felt like he couldn’t. The stupid dreams kept haunting him, with the same girl, and her familiar face, and her familiar voice. Every single night. 

 

He didn’t think he would ever be left alone.


	2. Heat Waves

Ringing.

 

 

A sigh.

 

 

More ringing.

 

 

_“¡Hola!This is Lauren McClain, I can’t seem to come to the phone right now, but I’ll try to get back to you later! Leave a message!”_

 

Lance stared at his phone. He couldn’t even tell if he was disappointed or not, just slightly annoyed that he had already called her twice without a response. With unreadable emotions, he set his phone down. 

 

He had stayed behind from going to the market with Shiro and Keith on a Thursday evening in order to attempt to call his mother. Not that he had really wanted to go in the first place, he felt tired and by no means in the mood to communicate with people desperate to sell him merchandise. Besides, the two of them hadn’t had a chance to go out on a date on their own in a while anyways. It was almost always all three of them together, seeing that they balanced each other out so well.

 

So, he sat alone in the king sized bed, bored and tired. He wanted to sleep, but the hope that his mother would call him back lingered. He wanted to talk to her despite his worries; he didn’t think he really spoke to anybody about his troubles for a long while. Sure he could talk to Hunk or Pidge, but they didn’t particularly care. Well, Hunk did, but not in the way that Lance needed.

 

He wanted someone to sit and hold him while he talked, and while he was sure that his boyfriends would be there for him, he was scared. He didn’t want to see their expressions when he told them of the emotional baggage that he dragged into their relationship, storing it away in a closet and hoping nobody would ever open it. But the closet was getting fuller and fuller, and eventually it would burst open, revealing the contents.

 

Lance flopped backwards onto the bed, groaning. Being alone was so distasteful, and he always ended up thinking of destructive things. It seemed as though he were alone more and more frequently, even when the other two men were present with him. He didn’t know what to do to feel closer with him, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they even noticed the distance that was spreading at an increasing pace.

 

This was stupid, he was stupid, why couldn’t he just enjoy a day alone instead of thinking of depressing things? He had the place to himself, he should be playing really loud music, or singing at the top of his lungs… scratch that, not singing at the top of his lungs. He hadn’t sung in a long time, and he had no intentions to. Besides, the neighbors might complain. It was an apartment after all, everyone could practically hear each other’s conversations.

 

Groaning once again, Lance turned onto his side, staring at a wall. A rather interesting wall, if he stared hard enough he could see patterns tracing themselves throughout the entirety of it. A very curious discovery of his and– oh for fucks sake, nothing was really there, he was just bored out of his mind. His mother still hadn’t called, though he hadn’t recalled her being this busy when he lived with her still? He couldn’t imagine what was keeping her from getting back to him. 

 

Maybe she was sad too? Not unlikely, considering that so many events had affected the entire family, even if Lance’s selfish mind perceived it all to make it seem as though he were the only one suffering. If she were sad though, why hadn’t she reached out to him? Lance frowned and rolled back onto his back. 

 

She probably didn’t contact him for the same reason that he didn’t contact her. The false belief that distancing himself from everything relating to the incident would correct it. Which, he had begun to realize, was fucking ridiculous and unproductive as it could get. 

 

Lance sighed. The ceiling was equally as boring as the wall, if not more so. The patterns were even further away, yes, the patterns that didn’t even exist and that Lance’s mind was conjuring up for a form of entertainment.

 

He wondered when Keith and Shiro would get back. Perhaps he’d feel a bit happier if he were with them. Or he wouldn’t be. What made him happy?

 

He frowned.

 

He could watch _Heathers_ , maybe he’d feel happy then.

 

Or he’d have a mental breakdown.

 

The stupid film held emotional value to him, and he couldn’t help but wonder ifhe’d be able to sit through it without sobbing. Probably not, he reflected.

 

He sighed and sat up. 

 

This was ridiculous.

 

He wouldn’t even allow himself to think about the things that happened, nor do things like sing or watch a certain film. He was pathetic. 

 

There was no reason that he couldn’t watch it, right? It’d be good for nostalgic purposes. 

 

So, he rolled off of the bed and walked into the living room and turned on the TV. He switched to Netflix, and pulled up _Heathers_ , unsure of why he was so determined to watch it. Perhaps he thought it would be healthy for him to stop ignoring the past.

 

He regretted it.

 

_“Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw.”_

 

The line nearly brought tears to his eyes, and he realized that this probably wouldn’t go the way he intended.

 

 

 

 

—

 

 

An absolute mess, one could call him. Pathetic would be another good way to sum him up. There he was, laying on the couch sobbing. The credits were rolling, and nothing particularly sad had happened, but that seemed to make no difference. His chest ached; he used to watch this all the time when he was younger, before… everything went wrong.

 

At some point he heard the front door creak, and realized that his boyfriends were home. He hastily tried to wipe his face, but knew that his efforts would turn up futile.

 

“Hey Lance we’re home, the traffic is _terrible_ out there, what ha-” Shiro started. His footsteps stopped when he looked at Lance, his body shaking with the effort to calm his breathing. Keith followed behind him, his chattering coming to a sudden stop as well.

 

Footsteps sounded again, but this time they were approaching him. Lance shifted so that he could press his face into a cushion, not wanting to look at the worried expressions that they wore.

 

A hand carefully stroked his hair, and he felt the warmth of someone near him.

 

“Look at me,” Shiro softly murmured. Lance shifted his head ever so slightly to look out Shiro from above his arm. He knew he must have been acting childish, but he didn’t mean to.

 

Keith was standing a couple of feet away, looking worried but uncertain.

 

“Why are you crying,” Shiro said gently. Lance didn’t reply, and instead shifted his gaze towards Keith who looked as though he were trying to conceal laughter. Except he wasn’t looking Lance, instead the TV which had returned to the _Heathers_ description page.

 

“You’re crying over _Heathers_?” Keith snickered. Lance’s heart sunk. He had forgotten that Keith was a fan of the film and musical; he probably thought that Lance found it touching.

 

Shiro turned around and gave Keith was he imagined was a dirty look before turning back to Lance and looking at him expectantly. Lance averted his eyes from Shiro’s gaze.

 

“I used to watch it when I was younger,” Lance muttered, hoping that they could understand the depth of that even without context.

 

Keith’s smirk died down to a confused frown.

 

“So you’re crying..?” Keith questioned. Lance shifted onto his back.

 

“Yes,” he said shortly. He saw Keith shift, returning to his uncomfortable stance. Shiro took in a breath, probably as confused as Keith but doing better to conceal it.

 

“Well…” Shiro traced circles onto Lance’s back, pausing in his sentence briefly. “How about you come back to the bedroom, ok? I’ll run you a bath and maybe after that you’ll feel better. How does that sound?” Lance smiled softly, appreciative of his attempts at making him feel better.

 

“That sounds nice,” he murmured, before sitting up. His head spun a bit, dizzy from crying. Taking Shiro’s outstretched hand, he stood, before walking towards the bedroom, Keith trailing, and Shiro branching off to the bathroom once inside.

 

“Sorry, by the way,” Keith muttered, looking at the ground. Lance faced him, somewhat surprised. Keith wasn’t one to apologize on his own accord often. Blinking, Lance tilted his head.

 

“It’s fine, I probably would’ve laughed too,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically level. Keith looked up at him, surprised that he didn’t sound even slightly bitter, but Lance had already turned away to grab some clothes from the closet. 

 

However, he never made it there, his movements stilling when he heard a song he hadn’t heard in a while, coming from his phone. 

 

It was his mother’s ringtone. 

 

Lance all but threw himself onto the bed, fumbling with his phone before answering.

 

“Lance?” 

 

Keith looked confused from across the room, and slightly concerned, when Lance covered his mouth and held his breath.

“Mama?” Lance was on the verge of tears just from hearing his mother’s voice.

 

“Oh god, Lance how are you, I’m so sorry I haven’t tried to call you, I just didn’t think you wanted to talk to us after everything happened with Sophia and-”

 

“Mama, stop, it’s ok, I’m just happy to hear your voice.”

 

Keith shuffled quietly towards the bed, his expression holding curiosity.

 

“How are you? Are you eating well?” Lance smiled.

 

“Yes I’m eating well,, and.. oh actually Mama I’m seeing someone. Or-er some people.”

 

“What do you mean people? Are you _cheating_?” Lance laughed.

 

“No no no, I’m not cheating on anybody, I’m.. dating two people. Ever heard of being uh.. polygamous?” Lance heard an intake of breath from Keith.

 

“Being… what?” Lance sighed, and switched to his native tongue.

 

“ _Being polygamous, you know, dating or marrying more than one people at once,”_ he said.

 

“ _Oh! wait-you’re dating_ two _people?”_ Lance fiddled with a stray strand of hair, and switched back to English.

 

“Yup, two guys,” Lance said.

 

“It’s a shock you managed to get two dates at once, you could barely get someone to go with you to prom in high school,” Lauren said. Lance could practically hear the smile in her voice.

 

“Well the people at school were dic-I mean morons anyways,” he scoffed. A pause followed, and Lance shifted to hug his knees to his chest.

 

“Hey Mama?”

  
“Yes?”

 

“Do you think we could go out to lunch sometime? Just the two of us?” Lance heard Keith make an indignant noise from beside him; he had originally proposed the idea of having Lauren meet him and Shiro.

 

“That’d be… great, where do you want to go?”

 

Lance paused.

“The coffee shop downtown, this Saturday?” he murmured questioningly.

 

“Sure, um, how does 2 p.m. sound to you?” Lance shuffled.

 

“That’s fine,” he replied. Silence reigned once again.

 

“Well I have to go, it was really good talking to you,” she said eventually.

 

“Ok, I love you,” he said.

 

“Love you too!”

 

“Bye.”

 

_Click._

 

Lance lowered the phone from his face around the same moment that Shiro shuffled into the bedroom. Without warning, he began crying hysterically. Keith moved forward and wrapped his arms around him out of impulse, before awkwardly stroking his hair. 

 

Within moments, Shiro hugged him as well, whispering gentle words of comfort. Lance sobbed, becoming quieter as the minutes rolled on. 

 

Eventually his cries slowed to gentle whimpers, and Keith shifted to look at him.

 

“Did she… say something?” He asked. Lance shook his head.

 

“No, I’m just… I hadn’t spoken to her in a while, I’m really glad to have heard her voice,” he sniffed. Shiro looked confused.

 

“I uh, who?” He said slowly, pulling away to look at Lance as well.

 

“My mother,” Lance replied, his gaze flickering between the two men.

 

Shiro’s gaze revealed surprise.

 

“Really?” He said stupidly. Lance nodded. Shiro looked over to Keith, who smirked at the other’s confusion.

 

“Oh,” he said simply. Lance smiled. He knew that Shiro must have been surprised; Lance had once said that he hadn’t spoken to his mother since he was 17. Lance pulled away from them both and swung his legs off of the side of the bed.

 

“Is my bath finished?” He asked, directing the question towards Shiro.

 

The older man nodded, confused at the sudden movement. Lance hummed.

 

“Cool, thanks for running it,” Lance said, grabbing a pair of clothes from the closet that looked ok, almost certain that he grabbed a pair of Keith’s pants, and headed into the bathroom, locking the door with a sigh.

 

The bathtub was full of bubbles, with a towel folded and laid onto the toilet for convenience, making Lance smile softly.

 

From behind the door, Lance heard Keith and Shiro talking in hushed tones, most likely discussing his peculiar behavior. 

 

Quietly, Lance stripped and dipped his foot into the bathtub, wincing slightly, before all but jumping in with one fluid motion. He usually made his baths hot, and made a point to let his boyfriends know of this. Apparently warm baths were more soothing to the muscles or something like that.

 

Whatever it was, it meant that it felt like hell upon entry. However after a couple minutes of sitting and popping random bubbles idly, the initial heat-shock died down, leaving a tingling sensation on his skin.

 

Lance drifted into a state of thought.

 

He couldn’t help but fret over how the meet-up with his mother would go.

 

She was bound to bring up topics that he had no interest in discussing.

 

Lance frowned.

 

How long could he ignore his issues for?

 

This meet-up with his mother was practically like getting a slap in the face from them, yet he still chose to cower away.

 

In the back of his mind, Lance registered Keith and Shiro’s voices getting louder. They must have been finished talking about him.

 

A pang of guilt hit him, and he rather aggressively popped a nearby bubble. The two most important men in his life, ones that he had been living with for over six months, were still in the dark about such important matters in his life.

 

The water had cooled drastically since when he first got in.

 

Lance noticed a little while after the temperature change.

 

Heat always cools down eventually.

 

Maybe if he just ignored everything it would die down on it’s own.

 

And maybe if he told himself that enough, he’d really believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, the last chapter: I'll make the ending better guys I promise! ~chu
> 
> Also me, this chapter: *slams face on keyboard* is that an acceptable ending????!!!!11?


	3. Forget Me Please

_One and a two, and a one two three._

 

_No that’s not the tempo._

 

_It’s faster than that._

 

_One and a two and a one two three._

 

_What are the words?_

 

_Shit._

 

_I think I forgot them._

 

_I always forget them._

 

_We have a show tomorrow though, I can’t forget them._

 

_No I am not crying! I’m just stressed._

 

_Well let’s see you do better you prick._

 

_It’s out of my vocal range anyways._

 

_You’re a bitch._

 

 

 

_—_

 

 

Lance’s birthday was approaching. July 28th was in a few weeks, and he knew very well that his boyfriends would want to celebrate it. The thought made him cringe; his birthday was dreadful. However, here he was, attempting to conduct a list of gifts that he’d like to get so that they could just _leave him alone._ Keith was surprisingly the most persistent of the two, firmly believing that it would be unfair of them to do absolutely nothing for Lance.

 

Lance buried his head in his hands, groaning. He was sitting on the edge of their bed, scrolling through new phone cases that he might be okay with putting on the list. The meeting with his mother was in a couple of hours, another lovely addition to his list of stressful-shit-that’s-happening.

 

Outside of their bedroom, Lance heard Keith call his name, and grumbled. Tossing his phone somewhere onto the bed, Lance stood on tired legs and shuffled out of their bedroom.

 

In the living room Keith was sitting in their one-person chair, with Shiro looking over his shoulder onto his laptop. His drawing tablet sat in his lap, and Lance realized that he was probably looking for an opinion on his piece.

 

Shiro made a beckoning motion, so Lance walked to stand beside him and looked down at the screen.

 

The piece was good, as were most of Keith’s pieces.

 

“I feel like the colors are too saturated, what do you think?” Lance frowned. They looked fine to him.

 

“I think they’re fine,” he stated simply. Shiro made an exasperated gesture.

 

“That’s _exactly_ what I’m saying, but Keith keeps telling me that the colors are too bright,” Shiro said with irritation.

 

“But look at the reds, they should be more pastel-y,” Keith replied irritably. 

 

“Well if that’s the conclusion you’ve come to why bother asking us?” Shiro muttered.

 

“ _Because_ I don’t know for sure if I’m right,” Keith whined, twirling his stylus in his hand helplessly.

 

“Then listen to what we’re saying!”

 

“But what you’re saying isn’t right!”

 

“ _What the fuck?_ ”

 

Lance sat and witnessed the useless bickering that Shiro was surprisingly participating in. He wasn’t the type to argue unless the topic wasn’t particularly interesting. Or was this banter? Lance couldn’t tell, nor did he particularly care.At some point he walked away, realizing that he would need to put on shoes and get ready to leave soon. Once in the bedroom, instead of actually going to get his shoes, he flopped onto the bed, sighing. 

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go, he just…. Didn’t want to go. 

 

Rolling onto his back, Lance forced himself to sit up, and stared at the ground for a brief second before heading over to the closet. He picked up a pair of shoes (double checking to make sure they were actually his), and slid them on. He walked back to his bed and picked up his phone, frowning when he opened it to the screen of phone cases. Stuffing his phone into his back pocket, he walked back into the living room, where Shiro and Keith were no longer bickering, but instead Shiro was messing with Keith’s hair while he worked. 

 

Lance walked past the living room into the kitchen, were the keys sat on the counter, and grabbed them, twirling with them idly for a brief second.

 

“Are you leaving?” Keith called over to him. Lance frowned and glanced over at the clock on the microwave. It was 1:15 pm, aka not quite time for him to leave.

 

“Not yet,” he replied shuffling back into the living room. Keith hummed, spamming one of his hotkeys with an irritated expression. Lance laid down on the loveseat, bothering his keys once again.

 

“Hey Lance can you stop that? It’s distracting,” Keith called irritably, his eyes fixed on his piece.

 

Lance stilled the twirling of his keys, and instead opted to stare at the ceiling. The sound of Keith’s stylus clicking against his tablet filled the room. Shiro still idly twirled his hair, but at some point Keith pulled away, muttering something about it hurting.

 

As the minutes rolled by, Lance realized that he was going to be late if he sat around for much longer. And yet he didn’t get up, half hoping that he’d find an excuse as to why he couldn’t go.

 

“Lance shouldn’t you be leaving soon?” Shiro asked, looking at the time on Keith’s screen. Lance groaned, sitting up.

 

“I guess,” he said drily, lazily walking to the front door, clearly procrastinating. 

 

“See you later then,” Shiro said, and Keith waved half-heartedly, not even turning to look at him. Lance stepped out, shutting the door behind him. Turning, he walked down around sixteen steps into the parking lot. It was windy, he probably should’ve brought a jacket he reflected with irritation. 

 

Shivering slightly, Lance headed towards the car, opening the door and seating himself in it. With a loud slam, he shut the door, and turned on the car.

 

A CD was playing, and Lance rolled his eyes when he realized it was Keith’s tracked filled with a mix of alternative emo music and country.

 

Turning the radio off, Lance began pulling out of the parking lot before hastily putting on his seatbelt, imagining Shiro’s nagging about safety. As he pulled out of the lot, leaving the mass of apartments down, Lance began to wonder if he should stop by the store and pick up more tea while he was out.

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

His window was rolled down all the way, some of Beyonce’s older songs blasting on the radio. Lance tapped his finger against the wheel.

 

There was traffic, lots of it for whatever reason. Why in the hell would there be so many people going towards the city on a normal Saturday afternoon? Lance scowled. The exit wasn’t even that far away if these cars would fucking _move_ at least.

 

Eventually the traffic began to inch along. Lance at some point realized that he was too far over to get on the exit, but brushed aside his worry. With the traffic going so slow, there was no way that he would miss the exit.

 

Spoiler alert.

 

He missed the exit.

 

Lance hit the dashboard and yelled _“Shit!”_ when he realized that he was passing the exit, still in the wrong lane. The traffic cleared up a bit more after he passed it, but was by no means absent.

 

“For fucks sake,” he groaned. Glancing at the digital clock on the car’s display, Lance groaned once again, seeing as it was 1:50. He was definitely going to be late to a meeting with his _mother,_ the woman who birthed him. 

 

Crossing over two lanes, Lance grumbled, waiting for the next exit.

 

Eventually he managed to get off the freeway, and began following the back roads towards downtown.

 

It was quiet for a brief stretch of area, where the trees blowed and young women walked their dogs.

 

Everything about it was nice, but to Lance the hustle and bustle of downtown was better. After taking a couple a turns, he was confronted with towering buildings and honking horns. Usually, he would be happier to be down here, but instead his felt anticipation twisting his gut.

 

Slowly, Lance winded around the roads, gripping the steering wheel tighter as he got closer to the cafe.

 

He could see it on the other end of the street. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was 2:18 and inwardly cursed. Not that he really wanted to go… Well he did want to go, he just had a funny way of expressing it.

 

A car backed out in front of Lance, giving him the opportunity to pull into the space. He parked a few buildings down from the cafe.

 

Sighing, Lance turned of the car and twirled the keys on his finger as he exited the car.

 

Nerves reigned his body.

 

Slowly he made his way down the sidewalk, his eyes scanning about for his mother’s blue Subaru. He frowned, not seeing it, and turned into the cafe.

 

The smell of it hit him the moment he opened the doors. It was a comforting sort of smell in a way, seeing as he used to go to this cafe a lot. The layout was familiar, though the menu had changed.

 

Scanning his eyes around, Lance was unable to spot his mother.

 

“Excuse me sir?” A small voice sounded next to him. Turning, he saw a mousy girl dressed in the cafe’s uniform standing behind him.

 

“Yes?” He replied his eyes still darting around for his mother.

 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” She asked, her voice hastily switching to something overly cheery.

 

“Well uh… Has anyone by the name of Lauren happened to come in, she has a Cuban accent and uh looks kinda like me but a middle aged woman,” he said distractedly. Was she late?

 

“No sir I haven’t,” she said, “But I can get you seated if you don’t see her!” Lance frowned.

 

“Nah it’s ok, I’ll wait by the door,” he said, turning to look at her. 

 

“Ah o-ok, well if you need anything please let me know!” She stuttered, hurrying off. Lance sighed and leaned on the wall near the door, taking out his phone. No texts from his mother explaining her absence. Idly, he began to scroll through social medias, liking random posts about cats and makeup.

 

After what could have been perceived as hours if it weren’t for the digital clock on his screen, Lance was tapped on the shoulder, making him jump. Turning around, he saw a much shorter woman, looking up at him with surprise and happiness.

 

Lance covered his mouth, not wanting to say anything in fear that he’d somehow spoil the moment.

 

“Lance!” She said eventually with such happiness that he had to laugh, his hands dropping from his mouth in surprise when she rushed him with a hug.

 

His anxieties melted, why had he been so worried again? Eventually the two of them parted, looking at each other with smiles (and a wet face in Lauren’s case).

 

Eventually Lance broke the silence.

 

“Mama, you look older,” he teased, receiving a swat on the head from her in return.

 

“You never tell a woman that she looks old,” she snapped at him with her thick accent. After a moment of looking at him sternly, she chuckled, before sobering.

 

“How are you feeling Lance?” She asked gently. He frowned.

 

“Fine, how are you?” He replied, shifting. 

 

“I’m doing ok,” she said, scanning his face with evident disbelief at his words.

 

“Lets pick a table,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her towards the table that he used to always sit at. It was almost always empty, he had learned, for whatever reason.

 

Sliding into a seat across from his mother, Lance rested his head on one of his hands.

 

“So?” She said, mimicking his pose.

 

“So?” He repeated questioningly.

 

“How are you really?” She asked. Lance smiled, a genuine one.

 

“Tired,” he said, drumming his fingers against his cheek.

 

“Do you still think about her?” No hesitance shown from his mother to mention to subject.

 

“Of course I do.”

 

“Maybe you should help us with-”

 

“No.”She sighed.

 

“Lance.”

 

“Mama.”

 

“ _Lance._ ”

 

“ _Lauren._ ”

 

Lance knew he was being childish. But for whatever reason he wouldn’t allow himself to open up and talk with her.

 

Lauren frowned at him.

 

“Lance you’re not 5 anymore, please talk to me like an adult,” she sighed.

 

“I am talking to you like an adult.”

 

“No you’re not.”

 

“Yes I am.”

 

“Lance, come on! Quit acting like this.” Lance sighed, the drumming of his fingers increasing.

 

“I don’t want to clear out her bedroom,” he said simply.

 

“At some point we’ll have to.”

 

“Not anytime soon.” 

 

A pause.

 

“Your father wants to clear out your bedroom as well.”

 

“What for?”

 

“To make it an office.” Lance scowled.

 

“Fine, let him do whatever the hell he wants with it.”

 

“Lance…”

 

“What? Who cares if he changes my room, I didn’t like it that much anyway.”

 

“Lance I’m not going to let him clear out your room.”

 

“Why not? Maybe he’ll stop bitching about me if every part of me is gone from that hell house.” 

 

Lauren audibly gasped, her brows knitting in offense. Lance almost immediately put his head in is hands, running his fingers through his hairs in a motion that resembled that of pulling his own hair out.

 

“No, fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he said quickly.

 

“You loved that house,” she said, sounding scandalized. 

 

“I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he apologized again.

 

“Yes you did,” she breathed.

 

“No I didn’t, I just… I want to forget all of this, don’t you?” Her expression morphed from that of shock and anger to one of sadness.

 

“I don’t want to forget it,” she sighed.

 

Another period of silence ensued. At some point the small girl working at the cafe came and took their orders, the two of them both getting a hot beverage, Lance’s being tea.

 

“The company said they’ll let you back without auditions.”

 

“No.”

 

“Lance, please, you were their best performer,” Lauren said in a begging tone.

 

“ _We_ were their best performers,” he snapped. Lauren stirred her coffee.

 

“They’re short on sopranos.”  


 

“They can find another.”

 

“Lance, they might not give you this kind of offer again.”

 

“Tell them that I’ll pass.” Lance stared aggressively down at his cup of tea, fiddling with the teabag’s string.

 

“I know that this is hard for you…”

 

“If you did then you’d stop pestering me about this.” Lauren frowned.

 

Eventually, Lance stood up, having previously paid for their drinks.

 

“I should go,” he said shortly. Lauren looked up at him, her expression sad, before standing.

 

“Before you leave, please just know that you can call me anytime,” she said. Lance smiled and nodded, but the smile felt weak. Hugging her, Lance realized that she smelled like his old house. After a few seconds she pulled away.

 

“I love you,” she said, smiling sadly.

 

“I love you too,” he murmured, and left.

 

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

 

Lance felt tired, more so than before. When he walked into the front door, he was bombarded with questions about how he went, and he had simply said _“Fine”_. 

 

Lying on their bed, Lance curled into a ball. He wanted to sleep past his pain. It always came back though, even after ignoring it.

 

Lance sighed. He was so tired of being tired. It felt like too much work, making him even more tired at the end of it all.

 

Picking up his phone, Lance texted his mother, allowing his impulse to take over before his anxieties kicked in.

 

 

 

 

**Lance, 4:35 p.m: I’ll help you clear out her room, when do you want to?**

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *writes lance as sad* 
> 
> Me later: goddamn why is lance so sad?? i hate langst. fuck anyone who creates langst.


	4. Desaturated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between chapters! I was having a bit of a difficult time with this.
> 
> Also there's a perspective shift, but I promise there's a reason for it!

_“Wait, so why do you want us to help?”_

 

 

Keith's purple eyes crinkled in confusion as he stared at Lance, who stood in the center of the living room fumbling with his hands. His blue gaze stared at his hands.

 

Earlier that day, Lance had come out of their bedroom, talking quickly about clearing out someone’s bedroom and wanting them to help. The detail’s flew over Keith’s head, as most things did, and he found himself asking for clarification on multiple occasion.

 

From what he had gathered, Lance had an… older? sister named Sophia that had moved out in a spiteful manner, leaving a poor taste in everyone’s mouths. Lance had flown through the story, his voice somewhat low.

 

He had said that his parents wanted to clear out her room so that the hurt and whatnot would start to go away. Shiro had questioned it, asking if that was wise considering that she might come back. To that Lance had said _“No, she’s not going to come back.”_ Shiro dropped his case. 

 

Lance had then gone on to say how he wanted Shiro and Keith’s help in clearing out her room, which is where Keith questioned why.

 

“Oh! Uh, well it’s just going to be my mother and a few siblings, and I’d prefer if we had someone to help carry out… larger items,” he said, trailing off.

 

Shiro tilted his head and shrugged.

 

“I mean I don’t mind helping. Does your mother know that you’re asking us?” He asked. Lance started, raising up his hands up in a slightly alarmed stance.

 

“N-no, but I’ll tell her soon!” He said quickly. Keith watched as Lance lowered his hands slowly, his strange behavior confusing him. Remaining silent, Keith folded his arms, glancing between Lance and Shiro.

 

“When do you want us to go over there?” Shiro questioned.

 

“We haven’t figured that out yet,” Lance replied, returning to fumbling with his hands. Shiro shifted in his spot, his expression displaying the same confusion that Keith felt. Lance stilled his moving hands suddenly.

 

“So, uh, I’ll call her later then… Anyways! Lets do something, I’m bored,” he said quickly. Keith frowned.

 

“I need to go to the store, if that counts as doing something,” he said, shrugging. 

 

“I’ll go with you, I mean I need more tea anyways,” Lance said. Keith murmured an ok, and walked back into the bedroom to grab his wallet. Lance’s phone laid on the bed, his shoes placed haphazardly by the base. 

 

Keith walked to the side of the bed and grabbed his wallet, walking out of the bedroom.

 

Lance had the keys already, and was standing by the door. Keith looked down at his feet.

 

“Aren’t you, uh, forgetting something?” He said. Lance frowned, and followed Keith’s gaze, jolting with surprise when he realized that he had no shoes. Moving to the side, Keith watched as Lance shuffled past him into the bedroom.

 

Walking over to where Shiro sat on the loveseat, leaned on the back of the chair.

 

“Don’t you think he’s acting a bit… odd?” Keith asked quietly. Shiro looked over at him.

 

“Yea… I can only guess it’s because he doesn’t want to clear her room out? Who knows.”

 

“He’s been acting off before this too.”

 

“A little bit, yeah.” Keith frowned.

 

“Don’t you care?”

 

“Of course I care, Keith, but what are we supposed to do? He doesn’t want to talk to us, obviously,” Shiro replied with a heated whisper. Sighing, he turned away from Keith.

 

“The fact that he’s asking for our help is a start at least, it means he’s opening up.” Keith shifted.

 

“Yea, but I mean what about-” Keith started, but cut himself off when he saw Lance approaching. 

 

“Ready to go?” He asked, walking away from the loveseat. Lance made an affirmative hum, and tossed Keith the keys. 

 

Keith exited the apartment, followed by Lance. It was hot outside, the wind carrying a warm breeze. Keith made his way down the steps, hearing Lance’s footsteps from behind him.

 

Upon entering and turning on the car, Keith noticed that the radio was silent. He frowned, debating whether or not to turn it back on.Lance had verbalized many times how much he disliked Keith’s music.

 

Groaning, Keith left it muted, and instead began to back out of the parking space.

 

“You’re gonna fly out of the window if you come to a hard stop,” Lance said drily. Keith looked over at him for a moment, confused, before coming to the realization that he was talking about his seatbelt. Keith smiled with an irritable undertone, making it look like a grimace.

 

“You’re getting as bad as Shiro,” he said, buckling his seatbelt, before continuing to drive. Lance didn’t respond, instead he simply looked out of the window and drummed his fingers lightly on it.

 

Keith pulled out of the parking lot at a worrying speed, and began to all but fly down the street. Shiro pestered him about his driving speed dozens of times before, though Keith believed that he was careful while driving when necessary, so he brushed it off. 

 

The store wasn’t that far away, only about five minutes, three when Keith was driving. It was a simple market, sometimes Shiro went to other stores that were further away in order to collect items that weren’t offered at the market.

 

Keith pulled into a parking space once they arrived at the market. Unbuckling, he stepped out of the car, hearing Lance follow. 

 

The two walked into the market, where it was significantly colder. It was fairly empty inside, a few people walking about here and there.

 

Lance scurried off, telling Keith something about going to find his tea. Keith watched him, frowning.

 

Lance had been significantly quieter lately, Keith had realized. He missed bickering with him over stupid shit, but every time he tried to provoke something, Lance immediately shut down.

 

Keith walked around the store, grabbing items such as snack foods and instant meals. He had a poor diet, as Lance used to often tease. 

 

After choosing about 7 different bags of chips that he’d eat over the course of 2 weeks, Keith grabbed more essential things like rice, soy sauce, fruits, and other things. 

 

At some point Lance found him an put a couple of boxes of tea into the basket.

 

“Is that everything?” Keith asked.

 

“Yea I guess,” Lance said, shrugging.

 

“Is that all you want?” Keith inquired curiously.

 

“I mean, I _said_ I was coming with you for tea.”

 

“Well yea, but fucking hell, don’t you put anything in your body besides that stuff?”

 

“I do! I just had a coffee the other day.”

 

“Ok sure. Keep spewing shit like that and I might actually believe you.”

 

“Ok.”

  
And then that was it. Keith frowned deeply. It was so frustrating to watch Lance close himself off. Bickering used to be their _thing,_ neither of them ever really meaning anything by it. 

 

Keith carried the basket to the check out, shortly answering the cashier’s questions about his day and whatnot. 

 

Afterwards, the two headed to the car in silence. Upon entry, Keith heard Lance’s door shut, and closed his own door roughly.

 

Drumming his fingers onto the wheel, Keith scowled. He couldn’t understand what was wrong. Was it him? Was it Shiro? Both? 

 

Keith’s leg bounced; he knew Shiro would be pissed at him for what he was about to say.

 

“What the fuck is up with you lately?” Keith snapped, acting on impulse, and realizing too late what an asshole he sounded like.

 

Lance jumped, his hands drawn into a defensive position.

 

“W-what?”Keith dug his fingers into his hair, his leg bouncing quicker.

 

“I _mean_ , why the fuck have you been acting so… off?” Keith looked over to Lance, who looked petrified. Sighing, Keith forced his demeanor to soften.

 

“You seem sad,” he tried instead.

 

“Do I?”

 

“Yes, you do. There’s obviously something up, what is it?” Lance shifted uncomfortably.

 

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just feeling down?” he said, his voice raising into a questioning tone.

 

“Bullshit. Can you not tell me or something? Is it like, a secret?”

 

“No! Nothing’s wrong.”

 

“Maybe I’d believe you if you didn’t look scared out of your fucking mind,” Keith hissed.

 

“I’m not!”

 

“You’re shaking.”

 

“Dude, quit nagging me, nothing’s up!” Keith stilled his drumming fingers suddenly, gripped the steering wheel, and jolted upwards.

 

“I’m trying to _fucking_ help you, quit acting-” Keith cut his yelling off upon seeing Lance raise his hands to shield his face. He knew his voice had raised drastically; he probably shouldn’t have been shouting anyways, but he made no indications that he would… hurt Lance.

 

“Why are you doing that? I’m not going to hit you,” Keith nearly whispered, his voice significantly softer.

 

Lance did not respond, but instead began to cry behind his trembling arms. 

 

Keith instantly felt guilt seeping through him, and awkwardly reached out a hand towards him.

 

Lance flinched as though the hand was engulfed in flames and capable of burning him.

 

Keith pulled his arm away, unsure of what to do.

 

After about 5 minutes of sitting there listening to Lance sob, he turned on the car. Lance made no objections. 

 

On the drive home Keith played his music to drown out the sound of his crying.

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

 

“What the _hell_ did you do!?” Shiro whispered angrily.

 

The moment that Keith and Lance had arrived home, Lance hastily wiped his tears and all but ran into the apartment. Keith could only imagine what Shiro’s initial reaction was when he saw Lance’s red and puffy eyes.

 

And so, Keith stood in front of Shiro’s prying eyes awkwardly, trying to explain the situation in a way that didn’t paint him as a total dick (which was near impossible).

 

“Well you see..” Shiro glared at him expectantly. Is that what being in trouble with your parents felt like?

 

“I asked him what the fuck was up with him,” Keith said quickly, tapping his toe against the ground.

 

“You _what_?”

 

“I didn’t know what to do! He was acting so weird, and it was bugging me, and I, ugh,” Keith responded, his response failing.

 

“Keith, he looks like he’s been _sobbing_ ,” Shiro hissed.

 

“He kinda has been,” Keith muttered. 

 

Shiro looked like he was about to say something else, but refrained from doing so, and instead rubbed his eyes irritably.

 

“You need to go apologize,” he said instead.

 

“ _What?_ No, I can’t,” Keith said.

 

“Why not?”

 

“I had starting yelling, a little bit, only a little bit -oh my god stop looking at me like that-, and I just feel awful,” Keith said.

 

Shiro’s facial expression melted into one of confusion and irritation. 

 

“Why were you yelling in the first place?”

 

“He told me to stop nagging him.”

 

“Are you serious? _That’s_ why you yelled?”

 

“Yes that’s why I yelled, obviously!” Shiro clenched his jaw, and sighed.

 

“I’m going to go talk to him, stay out here,” he grumbled, and walked past Keith into the bedroom.

 

Uncertain of what to do, Keith picked the groceries that he had put on the ground up and placed them on the counter.

 

Shifting awkwardly, Keith tried to ignore the sound of Shiro’s muffled voice and began to put away groceries, attempting to stop subconsciously listen to the conversation.

 

At some point he heard his name being yelled by Shiro and nearly dropped a jar, but placing it onto the counter instead.

 

“Coming!” He called back. Quickly, he shuffled towards the bedroom, cracking the door slowly.

 

Inside Lance sat on the bed, anxiously biting a nail. Shiro was sitting on the bed nearby, but stood upon Keith’s entry.

 

Lance avoided his gaze, shuffling his foot.

 

“I’m sorry,” Lance mumbled, his blue eyes focusing on a random spot.

 

Keith felt baffled; why was Lance apologizing? 

 

“Wha-why are you apologizing?” Lance darted his gaze up to Keith..

 

“I shouldn’t have been so difficult, you just wanted to help,” he said, trailing off. Keith stared at him, gaping.

 

“Lance, you looked _terrified_ , I shouldn’t of kept pressing you.” 

 

“Yea, but maybe if I had just responded…”Lance fiddled with his fingers. 

 

“No, Lance, look,” Keith said, walking towards him. Keith gently stilled Lance’s fiddling fingers with his hands, realizing that he had no idea where he was going with this. With slight uncertainty, he intertwined their fingers, before looking at up at Lance’s eyes.

 

Lance averted his gaze.

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, and well even if you did I bet that I could top it,” Keith said, squeezing Lance’s hand and mentally willing him to look up.

 

“Ok,” he replied softly. 

 

Keith hesitated letting go of his hands.

 

“Why did you shield your face?” He murmured. “Did you think that I was gonna hit you?”

 

“Wait _what_?” Shiro said from across the room, where Keith had forgotten he was.

 

“Oh, that uh was-” Lance started, but was cut off by a muffled song playing in what sounded like Spanish. 

 

Immediately Lance pulled his hand away from Keith’s, reached over to the dresser, and dragged his phone from underneath his wallet.

 

Keith didn’t get a chance to look and see who was calling before Lance answered the phone.

 

“Hey there,” he said, pausing to allow the other person to speak.

 

Keith saw Lance frown, before he began to ramble off in Spanish, saying “no” multiple times.

 

Eventually Lance switched back to English, after perhaps 5 minutes.

 

“Ok, so we can come over tonight?” He said. After a brief pause, he said a few more words and ended the call, tossing his phone away. Briefly the room was quiet, none of the three men knowing what to say.

 

“Was, that your mother?” Shiro asked. Lance nodded in response.

 

“She wants us to come over tonight?” Another nod. 

 

“Wait, _tonight_?” Keith repeated.

 

“Yeah, she uh said that my dad won’t be home tonight so it’ll be easier,” Lance replied. Keith tilted his head.

 

“Why can’t your dad be there?”

 

“He might be uh, disruptive,” Lance said awkwardly, fiddling with his hands. Keith, under the gaze of Shiro who might still have been mad at him, didn’t press it any further.

 

“When does she want us to go over?” Shiro intervened.

 

“She said we can go in a couple of hours,” Lance replied. 

 

“How far away is it?” Keith asked.

 

“Maybe an hour away..? It’s half an hour away from the campus, and the campus is like forty minutes from here so…” 

 

“Ok, then we'll leave in about 45 minutes,” Shiro decided. Lance didn’t reply, but instead stared at his feet. Keith shuffled from where he stood. The atmosphere felt tense and uncomfortable.

 

The previous conversation had never really ended. Keith still didn’t know why Lance had moved to shield his face. He didn’t want to bring it up again, seeing how uncomfortable it made him.

 

Did Keith really seem like he was gonna hit him? His hand wasn’t raised, was it? 

 

Keith scratched his head irritably, trying to remember the details of the scene. At some point Lance stood up, and mumbled that he was gonna grab something to eat before they left. Once he was out of earshot, Shiro turned to Keith.

 

“You were about to hit him?” He hissed. Yup, Shiro was definitely still mad at Keith.

 

“No!” Keith said a tad too loudly, and lowered his voice. “I didn’t even have my hand raised, I just started yelling a bit.” Shiro sighed, opened his mouth to reply, and shut it, grinding his jaw. After a brief moment, he walked past Keith into the living room. 

 

Keith frowned. So much had just happened within a brief period of time, and he found himself shaking his head in the process of trying to understand it. 

 

Sighing, Keith turned around and followed Shiro’s trail.

 

In the kitchen, Lance was warming some cold pasta in the microwave, and Shiro was leaning against the counter idly. 

 

Keith glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was 5:23 p.m., probably one of the longest Saturdays that he had ever experienced. Walking over to the loveseat, Keith laid down on it, draping his legs over the arm. 

 

He heard the microwave close, and the silverware drawer open.

 

Shifting on the couch, Keith frowned. He was bored. Lance didn’t seem uncomfortable around him anymore, which was good, but he still look generally anxious. Shiro was irritated with him, understandably, but upsetting nonetheless. 

 

Keith’s eyes followed Lance as he sat down in the armchair, bowl of pasta in hand. Neither of them said anything, and Shiro was still leaning against the counter, or at least Keith assumed he was.

 

After maybe five minutes, Lance lowered the bowl of half-full pasta, staring at the ground.

 

“When I raised my arms, it was a natural reflex. I don’t really think you’d ever hit me,” Lance said somewhat quietly. Keith sat up, looking over at him.

 

“Your mind wouldn’t have triggered the reflex if I gave no indications that I was going to do anything,” Keith replied, confused. “Unless you like, trained yourself to cover your face or something.”

 

Lance said nothing in reply, but instead continued to eat his pasta. Keith lied back down slowly, unsure whether or not he would say anything else or not.

 

He didn’t.

 

After a couple of minutes Lance stood and put his dishes into the sink. By then it was 5:42. 

 

About twenty minutes until they’d be leaving.

 

The thought was a bit nerve-wrecking to Keith. I mean, he’d be meeting his boyfriend’s mother, and siblings? He didn’t know if he’d get to see them. 

 

Choosing to postpone the thought of meeting anyone, Keith laid and stared at the ceiling. He had seen Lance doing the same thing dozens of times before, usually with a dull expression.

 

It was weird how he could be so expressionless sometimes, when on the other hand Keith had never seen anyone manage to portray exactly what they were feeling so well just by their face alone. His smile was almost blinding at times, and yet in the recent days he had shown no trace of one. 

 

Keith didn’t realize how quickly the time had passed when he heard Shiro’s voice startling.

 

“Keith, it’s almost time to leave.” 

 

Keith mumbled something in response, and removed himself from the couch. 

 

Walking towards the counter where Shiro had moved away from, Keith grabbed his wallet. Lance, who was already by the door, walked out and headed towards the car. Keith followed, Shiro trailing.

 

Outside the sky had grayed since Keith had last been out a few hours ago. It looked like it was preparing to rain, which was pretty shitty.

 

In the car, Keith sat in the backseat, stretching out to lay down. Shiro drove, Lance sitting in the passengers side.

 

As they backed out of the driveway, Keith noticed a slow drizzle begin to develop. 

 

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

 

It had been nearly an hour. Keith dozed in and out a couple of times, before staying awake to listen to whatever pop shit was on the radio. 

 

The rain had picked up into a borderline storm, causing Shiro to have to slow down significantly in order to not crash and die- or something along those lines. 

 

Lance had said about fifteen minutes ago that they were five minutes away. He gave updates, apologizing when he didn’t warn Shiro soon enough about an upcoming turn. 

 

Eventually they turned down a long road that led up to a somewhat small house with one car parked at it.

 

“That's the place,” Lance said. No prominent emotion showed behind the words.

 

Shiro pulled up at the house, parking and turning off the engine. Slowly Keith sat up, looking around. 

 

At the front door a plump woman stood, her hair pulled up into a bun. Keith assumed that she was Lauren, and felt a fresh wave of anxiety seeping into his mind.

 

Hearing the two doors shut, Keith hurried to get out of the car, wincing at the rain. The woman in the distance beckoned them forward.

 

“Come inside, you’ll catch a cold!” She called. Keith didn’t know about his boyfriends, but he was in no mood to get sick, so he quickly walked towards her, followed closely by the other two.

 

As he got closer he began to notice the resemblance. The same hair color, similar smiles, same skin-tone. The only thing that was noticeably different were her eyes. They were brown, instead of the piecing blue ones that Lance possessed.

 

Keith slowed down, allowing Lance to get in front of him. The two hugged once under the protection ofthe porch, exchanging a few words. Then she turned to Keith, who waved awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

 

She blinked and grabbed one of his arms, stretching it outwards examining him with furrowed brows.

 

“ _Lance_ , he’s so skinny, almost looks like you,” she said. Her accent was rather thick, but not difficult to understand in any sense.

 

Shiro snorted, and Keith cracked a smile. Lance rolled his eyes, the action most likely meant to be perceived as endearing. 

 

Lauren let go of Keith’s arm and smiled.

 

“You look terrified,” she said, her eyes crinkling.

 

“Oh! I, uh no, I’m not terrified,” Keith stuttered awkwardly. Lauren chuckled, outstretching her arms in a gesture that suggested a hug. 

 

“He’s not a big hugger Mama,” Lance said, frowning. Lauren shrugged, and instead held out her hand. Keith shook it, trying to sooth his nerves.

 

Turning away from him, she turned to Shiro. 

 

Shiro held out his hand, and Lauren shook it.

 

“Takashi Shirogane, Shiro for short if you will,” he said, smiling. 

 

“Ah, so you’re Shiro! Lovely to meet you,” she said. She let go of Shiro’s hand and beckoned them inside.

 

Shiro followed, but Lance stalled briefly, before sighing and following.

 

Looking around, Keith found that the home was quite… cozy to say the least. There were dozens of plants, and a few family photos. The staircase was nearby, where Lauren continued to walk up.

 

The pictures on the side of the staircase were endearing. Keith noticed someone resembling Lance and smiled. Next to him stood a girl just a smidge taller than him, sticking her tongue out.

 

Keith didn’t have enough time to properly look at it, as he was still moving up the staircase. Once he reached the top, a small hallway stretched out horizontally containing four doors.

 

Lauren went into the second.

 

Keith and Shiro continued in, while Lance stood outside, looking away. Keith didn’t question him.

 

Inside was an orgy of evidence that a girl had once lived there.

 

Dozens of posters of pop bands were plastered onto the wall, along with a guitar haphazardly laying in the corner. The room itself was a mess, with clothes and miscellaneous items strewn about everywhere.

 

A few empty boxes sat on the bed.

 

“Lance said that we’d be able to clear her room out quicker if you two could help,” she said somberly. 

 

“Of course, how can we help?” Shiro asked. 

 

“Perhaps start with all of these clothes on the floor,” Lauren said smiling sadly. “You know, ever since-”.

 

“Mama.” Lance stood at the entrance, his brows furrowed.

 

“What?” She said, puzzled. Lance frowned, and began to ramble off something in Spanish that Keith couldn’t understand.

 

Eventually she nodded, and sighed.

 

“Keith- that’s your name, right? Could you put those books in a box please?” Keith gave her a thumbs up, and attempted to cross the bedroom, only tripping twice (an amazing feat in his opinion). 

 

And so they set to work. 

 

 

 

—

 

Hours had passed, and the floor was finally visible. Lance had been uncharacteristically quiet for the entirety of the time. At some point Lauren stopped, setting down some items she had been holding.

 

“How about we have dinner? It’s awfully late,” she said.

 

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Keith murmured, folding a bra with an obscurely placed stain on it. Shiro hummed in agreement, taping up a box.

 

“Well I have a dish that I prepared earlier, I hope everyone likes soups?” 

 

Lance, instead of replying, brushed past her and headed downstairs. Sighing, Lauren followed.

 

“Lance must really like his sister,” Keith murmured. 

 

“Yea, I think they’re close in age too. I mean I’m just guessing, he said she’s older,” Shiro said, tossing the tape onto the bed.

 

“Come on, we should eat. Wouldn’t want to be rude,” he continued. Keith hummed affirmatively,and followed Shiro downstairs.

 

The moment he got down something seemed off.

 

To start, there were two new people present. A young girl that looked as though she could pass for 14 at the most, and an older man that must of been Lance’s father. His eyes were a sharp blue.

 

Lauren was in the middle of a sentence, but cut herself off immediately. The man turned towards the two, his irritable gaze sweeping over them. At some point he smiled, but it wasn’t nearly as welcoming as Lauren’s. It looked more like a grimace.

 

“You must be Lance’s… partners,” he said. Lance stood a little ways behind Lauren, looking frozen in place.

 

“We uh, yes! We are. I assume you’re Lance’s father?” Shiro asked, offering a handshake. The man ignored it.

 

“Yes, Antony McClain. I’m very glad you could join us for dinner,” he said gruffly, and walked towards the kitchen.

 

“ _Mama_ ,” Lance hissed. The younger girl stood near the door uncertainly. Lauren ignored Lance and looked at her instead.

 

“Ronnie, go get washed up, and get your brothers,” she said. The girl nodded and ran upstairs, sparing a glance towards Keith and Shiro.

 

Keith felt nervous. Lance looked rather upset, more expressive than he had in days. Lauren turned towards him, and said something slowly in Spanish. Then, grabbing his arm, she dragged him towards the kitchen, beckoning the two men.

 

Keith exchanged a glance with Shiro before following her.

 

In the kitchen was a large table. Lance and Antony were already seated. Behind Keith, the girl and two boys came running out.

 

“Lance!” One of the boys cried out. Lance jerked as though he had been snapped out of a daze, and then smiled.

 

“Hey there Luis, how’s it going?” He said, his eyes crinkling. Luis gave him a thumbs up.

 

Shiro and Keith took their seats near Lance. Keith couldn’t speak for Shiro, but he felt incredibly uncomfortable. Antony, who was right across from Lance, kept passing them judgmental stares, and Ronnie, or whatever her name was, looked nervously at Shiro.

 

“Why are your arms so big?” She said. Keith nearly choked on his spit.

 

“Veronica!” The other boy said. He seemed slightly older than her.

 

“ _What_? I was just asking a question!” She said, frowning. Shiro smiled.

 

“It’s ok. I suppose it’s because of the muscle,” he replied.

 

Soon after his statement, Lauren entered, carrying a couple of dishes. Plates were already set around the table.

 

Setting the dishes onto the table, Lauren took a seat.

 

Lance offered out his hand to Keith, who noticed that everyone else was doing the same. Keith took it, and held Shiro’s hand as well.

 

Lauren said a prayer, though Keith couldn’t say with pure conscience that he was listening. He was an atheist, after all.

 

After a short bit, Lance released his hand, along with Shiro, and everyone began to pass plates of food around.

 

The dishes looked rather appetizing, and Keith assumed that Lauren was a good cook. 

 

He was right.

 

“So,” Antony said, poking at his food with his fork. “Where do you two work?” 

 

“Oh! Well, I work as a customer service representative for Costco downtown,” Shiro replied.

 

“And I’m a freelance artist,” Keith said. “More recently I’ve been doing a lot of designs for game characters and whatnot.” Antony hummed.

 

Suddenly he stilled his fork.

 

“How’s living with Lance been, huh? He must be quite the downer.” Lance went rigid beside him.

 

“I’m sorry, what?” Shiro responded.

 

“I just assumed his must feel pretty bad for what he did to Sophia,” he said casually. 

 

“ _Papa_ ,” Lance murmured. 

 

“What? You don’t want me to tell them?” 

 

“Tell us what?” Keith asked. Antony furrowed his brows.

 

“Oh, well about how he killed his sister.”

 

Silence ensued. Beside Keith, Lance was shaking. Lauren immediately rambled off Spanish nonsense that Keith wished ever so desperately that he could understand.

 

“Shut up,” Antony said to her, glancing back and forth at Shiro and Keith.

 

Keith felt nauseous.

 

“I didn’t,” Lance said quietly.

 

“You were with her when it happened.”

 

“She ran in front of a bus.”

 

“You should’ve told her to stop.”

 

“ _I did_.”

 

“You fucking liar! You wanted her to die, I know it!”

 

Lance stood up, his entire body trembling. Keith’s eyes followed the movement, in complete shock.

 

Veronica and her brothers looked resigned, as though they had seen this many times before. 

 

“You didn’t know her like I knew her,” his father continued. “You were jealous that she could sing better than you.”

 

“ _What?!_ ” Lance spat.

 

“You hated sharing with her. Everything, your identity was associated with her. You didn’t even get your own birthday.”

 

“That’s not true…” Lance’s voice cracked. Keith’s mind scrambled to keep up with everything that was happening.

 

“Wait…” he said slowly. 

 

“You should’ve died instead,” Antony said. Beside him, Lauren was sobbing.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“You should’ve shoved her out of the way and gotten hit instead.”

 

“Stop…” Antony stood as well.

 

“You worthless bastard!” Antony raised his arm, posing to strike Lance, who almost immediately shielded his face.

 

Two chairs screeched as Keith and Shiro stood, Shiro grabbing Antony’s arm.

 

“I believe that’s enough, Mr. McClain,” Shiro said. Antony tore his arm away from him, glaring at him, then Keith, and finally Lance. Kicking his chair aside, he left the room.

 

Lance still shielded his face, his breathing erratic and body trembling. 

 

“Lance, we should go,” Keith murmured, reaching out towards him tentatively. Lance lowered his arms, his face wet, and walked briskly out of the house.

 

Lauren stood quickly, her hands shaky.

 

“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” she said shakily. “I- thought he wasn’t going to be home.” 

 

“It’s not your fault,” Shiro said. “It was lovely meeting you, would you like any help cleaning up?” Lauren shook her head, and shooed them away.

 

“Please, go see Lance,” she said. Shiro nodded and walked towards the door. Keith waved, unsure of what to do, before following.

 

Outside it was dark, the full moon blazing. The rain had toned down a bit. The car was already on, Lance in the backseat.

 

Opening the door, Keith got in the back with him, unsure of what to say.

 

Lance stared at the back of Shiro’s seat, who had begun to back up by then.

 

“You know I didn’t kill her, right,” he mumbled.

 

“What? Of course, I never thought you did,” Keith said. 

 

“The place where we were preforming was right across the street,” he said quietly. “I told her that a truck was coming, and she told me she’d run past it before it could get by.”

 

“She was 17. Our birthday was about a week away. She always said that she’d get to pick what we do on our birthday since she was born first.” 

 

The car pulled onto the main road. Lance began to cry softly, burying his face into his hands.

 

“E-every time she got back from sports tournaments, she’d tell me to sing as high as I could,” Lance stuttered out. “She wanted to prove that I sounded like a girl.”

 

Keith felt his heart break, and unbuckled his seat to slide next to Lance. He wrapped his arms around him slightly uncertainly. 

 

Shiro made no complaints about his seatbelt. 

 

Lance began to cry harder, leaning into Keith’s chest.

 

The rain pattered against their windows, like symbolism for the tears being shed.

 

Keith held Lance until he fell asleep.

 

Even in his dreams he seemed discontent. Keith wished on every bone in his body that he could bring Lance’s sister back for him.

 

Impossible, Keith was aware that it was.

 

What would he give to make Lance happy?

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. A Final Petal

Lance fell asleep from crying on the way home. When he woke around 15 minutes later, he pretended to remain asleep, afraid that some conversation would end if he sat up. His head leaned against Keith’s chest, but there was no tell-tale rumble indicating his talking. Shiro was silent as well.

 

He could hear the rain pattering against the window, even more aggressive than it had been earlier. The sound of cars as they raced past them echoed through the night.

 

Bon Jovi played at low volume on the radio. What station played him? Lance usually only listened to those trash mainstream pop stations.

 

Eventually the car slowed into a park, and Keith gently disturbed Lance from his apparent slumber.

 

When Lance looked outside, he realized that the moon was yellow. A color of cowardice, yes, but the moon was far from a cowardly thing.

 

He exited the car without waiting for Shiro to bring him the umbrella. It was just a bit of water, really. A cold dampness to match the internal dread that he felt. 

 

They were going to interrogate him, he knew that. They would sit him down and ask him why he never told them, or why he seemed so happy before. Maybe even after a while he’d get the typical twin™ questions from one of them, more likely Keith.

 

Lance walked slow enough up the steps to allow his boyfriends to catch up to him. Still, no one said anything.

 

Silence from the two of them had never felt more odd.

 

He stepped into the house, the familiar smell of it washing over him. He flipped on the light switch, and looked around. 

 

He lived in this place for long enough to know everything by heart, and yet everything felt so unusual and out of place.

 

Shiro and Keith walked in behind him, one of them shutting the door.

 

Lance loitered about in the living room, uncertain of where he ought to go. 

 

“So uhh…” Keith said, fiddling with the keys that Shiro had dropped onto the counter. Lance looked up, anticipating whatever Keith was about to say.

 

“You can sing?” Lance frowned. Out of all the more meaningful things that had just taken place, Keith was interested in his singing abilities. 

 

“I mean I guess. No, I won’t sing anything for you,” Lance added after Keith opened his mouth again to speak.

 

“Were you two close?” Keith asked with slight indigence due to Lance’s previous statement. 

 

Lance blinked.

 

“Were we close?” Keith exchanged a short glance with Shiro nervously.

 

“Y-yea? I guess, I don’t-”

 

“She was, practically all that I had at the time. I mean, now I have you two, but I…” Lance sighed. “Yes, we were very, very close.” 

 

Keith shifted from across the room, uncertain of what to say next. Lance couldn’t blame him, really, I mean what could he really say? Sorry? He was sure Keith new what little use the word sorry offered. 

 

Shiro, on the other hand, was apparently unaware of this. 

 

“I’m really sorry,” he said, the words holding no value to Lance whatsoever. 

 

“It’s fine, you couldn’t have done anything,” he replied shortly. 

 

“Yea but maybe if we had known-”

 

“Shiro this happened before I met you guys. Look-feeling bad about it won’t do anything, just like take pride in the fact that you guys actually made me feel quite a bit better or something, I dunno…” Lance trailed off to muttering.

 

“You know what, speaking of that, how come you didn’t seem like a depressed shit when we met?” Keith asked. Lance chuckled awkwardly, shifting on the soles of his feet. 

 

“Well uh… I kinda just, used the shock factor of what happened, to pretend it wasn’t real? Really unhealthy, I know, I’m awful, but I really just wanted to feel normal again, so I like, acted normal? I kinda tried to be how I would’ve been around her, but I guess it just got harder since I haven’t heard her voice in so long,” Lance mumbled. “And like this is probably really shitty for you guys, knowing that your boyfriend has felt like, terrible, for so long and not even knowing. I mean if you broke up with me or something I’d totally understand, I’m surprised you haven’t by now, really, especially that one time you guys had to put up with me drunk, I would’ve broken up with me too and-”

 

“Jesus fucking christ dude, we’re not gonna break up with you,” Keith said, cutting off his insistent rambling. 

 

Lance blinked, and then forced a laugh. 

 

“Of course you’re not, sorry, fuck, I’m being really stupid,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

 

“What? Stop saying that self deprecating crap, you’re not being stupid,” Keith said. Lance nodded, fiddling with his fingers awkwardly. 

 

He sort of felt like he was 15 again, trying to convince his sister that he was alright.  


He supposed the encounter with his father provoked a sense of inferiority in him, reminding him of when he was a child. 

 

“So uh, Lance,” Shiro started. Lance raised his head to look at him.

 

“What are you gonna do now?” Lance blinked.

 

“I dunno? Feel like shit? Talk to you guys about it?”

 

“What about like, counseling,” Keith piped it. 

 

“What? Ugh, no, it’s expensive and I wouldn’t want to,” Lance said.

 

“I think Shiro’ll decide if it’s too expensive. Why don’t you want to?” Keith replied. 

 

“I don’t know, I just, don’t think it’ll benefit me at all,” Lance murmured. 

 

“Ok fine whatever, I hated therapy anyways,” Keith sighed. “We can talk about that later or something.” 

 

Lance nodded, and then slowly began to walk towards the bedroom uncertainly. He was tired, even though he usually went to bed much later than whatever the time currently was. It was, ten maybe? 

 

Once in the bedroom he shut the blinds, climbing into the bed without bothering to change clothes or brush his teeth.

 

Keith and Shiro entered behind him, changing clothes and whatnot. Keith probably wouldn’t go to sleep for a bit.

 

Lance turned his head into the pillow, listening as Keith said goodnight to Shiro and walked back out into the living room. The room was quiet after that. 

 

Eventually Shiro lied down next to him. He didn’t say anything other than an offer to cuddles, of which Lance would be a dead man before he refused.

 

Hugging Shiro made him feel safe, so that was nice at least. 

 

He couldn’t remain safe forever, which sucked. The days would continue, whether he felt ok with it or not. Such cannot be helped. 

 

Well, until tomorrow then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know, this ending was utter shite, but I'm reallllyyy burnt out by this. I haven't really got any motivation for this story left, at least not for after Sophia dies. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story ^-^ 
> 
> I might add another part that's just Lance and Sophia's tomfoolery before she uh... yannow, so tell me in the comments if you'd be down for that. 
> 
> Until next time o/
> 
> P.S. I couldn't figure out how to explain this in the story, but in the beginning of the first chapter you saw Sophia telling Lance to drink a particular tea whenever he was sad, except it was altered into Lance's own words. That's why he's so obsessed with peach black tea, hah. Ok, until next time for realz o/

**Author's Note:**

> The cut off on this was shit, I'm sorry, I'll try to do better for the future chapters. I hope you enjoyed somewhat!


End file.
